


Forever Beside You

by Laziam (MItCheLlInE)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Adaptation, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, Insecure Liam, M/M, Mutual Pining, RE2017, Writers4Ziam, leap year au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MItCheLlInE/pseuds/Laziam
Summary: An old Irish superstition is to blame for Liam's misery until he gets stranded in a remote village and a grumpy innkeeper makes him rethink his decisions.





	Forever Beside You

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on the film Leap Year (2010). I have really enjoyed writing it. It is not terribly long but I hope you like it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dingle...if you are among the passengers originally travelling to Dublin, we apologize for the inconvenience caused...please, visit the information desk, where we will do our best to assist you.”

The tannoy announcement at Dingle harbour does nothing to lighten Liam’s mood. This is not what he had bargained for when he took his business class seat on the flight from Chicago to Dublin eighteen hours ago. It was supposed to be a straightforward journey; not a rerouted flight to Liverpool and then, to top it off, a bloody boat to Dingle, and now it looks like he has quite literally arrived in the middle of nowhere. He used to think that title belonged to his hometown of Wolverhampton, but he was clearly mistaken. This place is on a whole new level of remote. If he wasn’t so tired and hungry and generally disgruntled, he might have appreciated the quaint little harbour with its array of fishing boats. As it is, he finds himself on a stormy evening in February, traipsing along a slippery path towards where he thinks the centre of the village might be. Struggling to keep hold of his luggage, he berates himself for not dressing more sensibly; his dark blue suit, white shirt and black tie offer no protection against the biting cold. He didn’t even think to bring a coat. Then again, he hadn’t planned on trekking through the Irish countryside. Passing numerous cottages and small rows of multi-coloured terraced houses, he scans every window in the hope of finding a guesthouse, but no such luck. He checks his phone again, only to be informed that he still has no signal, so calling for a taxi is not an option. The strap of his laptop bag digs into his shoulder and his suitcase seems to weigh a ton right now. This entire trip may just be doomed, which wouldn’t even be surprising, given the circumstances…

Caught up in his gloomy thoughts, he nearly misses a thatched house to his left, displaying a ‘Rooms Free’ sign in the somewhat dirty window. On closer inspection, it turns out to be an inn by the name of ‘The Muddy Traveller’. How fitting. The building has seen better days but it will have to do. 

The heavy door opens with a screech and Liam steps into the dimly lit pub, which appears to be deserted except for the faint sound of music coming from somewhere in the back of the room. Liam goes to investigate, making his way across the creaking floorboards to the bar. 

“Hello?” he calls. And then again a lot louder. “HELLO?”

The music stops and a young man wearing earphones emerges from under the counter. He can only be described as stunning. Liam forgets momentarily why he is standing among these old fashioned wooden tables and benches. The bartender, or whoever he is, has probably the most beautiful facial features Liam has ever seen on a guy. His dark hair is sort of a styled mess, and there is just enough stubble on his chiseled jaw to make Liam hold his breath for a second. 

Apparently, his beauty is only skin deep though because he plucks his earphones from his ears, unashamedly looks Liam up and down, and barks, “Yes?”

Wow, the legendary Irish charm must have passed this guy by altogether. Liam decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was merely startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger. 

“My name is Liam Payne. I would like a room for the night, please,” he states, dredging up a courteous smile from somewhere within himself.

The barman looks even more irritated. “I don’t have any rooms.”

“But this is an Inn.”

“Yes, but we’re not open for business, as you can probably tell.” The guy waves his hands in a theatrical fashion. “There are several B&Bs in the village; about fortyfive minutes on foot.”

The words are delivered in a heavy Yorkshire accent, which explains why the speaker is not meeting Liam’s idea of a friendly Irishman. Hopefully, it also means that there is an actual owner around.

“I want to speak to whoever is in charge here,” Liam demands.

“You’re looking at him.”

Surely not? This surly individual cannot possibly be someone who runs a guesthouse? 

This question is answered immediately when another man appears through a side door. His short brown hair is styled into a quiff and he wears a colourful,striped apron.

“Everything ok boss?” he asks with an unmistakably Irish lilt.

“Yeah, fine. This gentleman was just leaving.”

Liam doesn’t know if it is the condescending way in which the landlord said ‘gentleman’ or the fact that he is dog tired, but his patience has run out. He will absolutely not walk another fortyfive minutes to find a bed.

“Look mate, I’ve been travelling all day. I’m supposed to be going to Dublin but my flight was diverted and then the ferry could only dock here because of the storm. I am knackered and I am starving. According to the sign outside; this is a business that offers rooms, so give me a fucking room. I’m not expecting the Ritz; just a bed and something small to eat.”

“I have no idea, what the Ritz is like and even if I did, I still wouldn’t have any rooms available.”

Right, that’s it.

“Well, too bad, I’m staying.” Liam drops his suitcase to the floor with a thud, digging into his pocket for his wallet, taking out several notes. “Here are one hundred pounds in cash, which is probably more than this entire shed is worth,” he says, slamming the money onto the counter. “I will be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

The guy in the apron looks quickly from one man to the other and then a broad grin spreads across his face. “I know; you could have the room that I stay in when I’m here over night. I’ve only changed the bedding the other day and haven’t used it since and I’m sure I can rustle up a sandwich for ya.”

Both he and Liam look expectantly at the landlord, who slowly puts his earphones back in. 

“Whatever,” he growls. “But I give no refunds and I don’t entertain complaints of any sort. You’re in charge, Niall.” With that, he grabs the money off the counter and leaves through the back door, slamming it behind him. 

Liam notes with immense satisfaction, that even out here in the sticks, money still talks.

“My apologies on behalf of the management. He is not usually like that...just has a lot on his plate ya know.” Niall says, turning his palms up in a helpless gesture. “Come on, I’ll show ya the room. It’s not much, but the bed is actually quite comfy.”

Liam nods. He is too exhausted to worry about the state of the room. Niall leads the way up a narrow staircase and into a tiny room with barely enough space to fit the single bed, a rickety nightstand and a plastic chair. The narrow window above the bed is covered with a flimsy curtain in a horrible shade of brown. It’s a far cry from his studio apartment in Chicago but it reminds him a little of his old room in his parent’s house, except that it wasn’t this dilapidated.

“There you go; the shower is unfortunately not working. There’s a sink though, and there is plenty of hot water in the tank.” Niall beams as if that fact makes everything a whole lot better. 

Liam likes the lad, thanking him with a genuine smile. “About that sandwich...I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve had nothing since late morning.”

Niall nods vigorously. “Sure thing...I’ll bring it to you and a juice, and I’ll fetch a towel for ya...be back in a jiffy.”  
Liam watches him leave as he tries out the bed. Niall didn’t exaggerate; the mattress is firm and has no lumps from what he can tell. He takes a peek out of the window into pitch black darkness. Apart from a few stars in the sky there is no source of light to be found. He really has landed at the end of the world.

After only minutes, the Irish lad returns with a huge ham sandwich, accompanied by a mountain of crisps, and a large glass of orange juice. He throws a faded but clean bath towel onto the bed. 

“Hope you like it. I’ll come round in the morning for your breakfast. Zayn lives downstairs in an annex, but I don’t expect that you will see him. He’s not what you might call a morning person. Should I be here at ...say nine? Or is that too late?”

Liam stands up to shake the lad’s hand. “Nine is perfect. Thank you, Niall. I appreciate your help. You have single handedly restored my faith in humanity.”

Niall throws him another cheeky grin and disappears down the stairs. 

Zayn - so that’s his name. It practically melts on the tongue. Liam shakes his head to rid himself of this rogue thought.

Not holding out much hope, he checks his phone again. ‘No service’ is all he gets and so he switches it off and sticks it into his laptop bag. What does it matter anyway? Cherrie isn’t expecting him in Dublin until the twenty ninth and the delay might give him a chance to prepare himself mentally for that day. 

Deep in thought, he strips down to his boxers, brushes his teeth over the tiny cracked sink and has a quick scrub before slipping under the crisp duvet. It takes him a bit of wriggling to get warm, but when he does, he finds that the bed isn’t bad at all. He will just have to spend the one night here and then get out of this godforsaken place first thing in the morning.

*****

After a surprisingly good night’s sleep, Liam wakes to the sound of the alarm on his watch. He studies the expensive accessory on his wrist for a moment, remembering the day that Cherrie gave it to him when he agreed to her plan. She made it all sound so easy and plausible. A ‘win win situation’ she called it. 

Reluctantly leaving the warmth of the bed, he takes a look into the narrow shower cubicle, tentatively turning the switch. Nothing happens at first but the it starts splattering and the water starts to flow; only most of it runs straight down the pipe instead of gushing out of the shower head. Liam diagnoses the fault as probably just a worn out washer. It is, however, impossible to say for sure without the appropriate tools, so he gives up on it and settles for a quick wash at the sink. The thought of getting back into the clothes from yesterday is not particularly appealing but he would rather keep his spare clothes clean for when he arrives in Dublin. 

Smoothing his shirt and trousers down as best as he can, he packs his stuff and heads downstairs. He is omitting the jacket and tie from his outfit because this is not the time for formal dress. The pub looks even more depressing in the first light of the morning and it is blatantly obvious that it hasn’t hosted any punters for a while. 

Niall is already behind the bar, putting some finishing touches to a delicious looking breakfast tray. That and the beautiful aroma of freshly brewed coffee almost makes up for the shabby surroundings. 

“A very good morning to you,” Niall greets him cheerfully, as he carries the tray to one of the large tables. “How was your night?”

Liam slides onto the bench and tucks into the food on his plate.“I slept like a log,” he answers truthfully. “And thank you again, Niall. I would have been thoroughly screwed, if the miserable sod had his way. Mmmm.., the breakfast is absolutely delicious,” he adds between mouthfuls of ham and fried egg.

“No worries...I nicked a few items from my ma’s kitchen and we always have good coffee on the go as a rule. The boss is great once you get to know him, honestly.” Niall unties his apron and throws it behind the bar. “Just leave everything on the table when you’re done and have a safe trip...cheerio,” he says, giving Liam a little wave as he departs through the front door.

And then Liam is alone, or so he thinks. Draining the last of his coffee, he glances up and nearly jumps out of his skin, almost spilling the hot liquid onto his lap. Zayn is propped up against the frame of the side door, eying him rather dispassionately. So much for not being a morning person. How long has he been there? How much of the conversation has he heard?

“Miserable sod, huh?” Zayn pushes away from the doorframe, ambling over to where Liam is sitting. He is wearing skinny jeans with a tight fitting red henley today and Liam yet again finds himself mesmerized against his will, but he is also determined not to take any crap from a wannabe innkeeper with no manners, even if he looks like a greek god fresh from Mount Olympus.

“You don’t think you were a dick last night?” Liam challenges.

“I told you that we’re not ready to take in guests, which is the truth. Why does that make me a dick?”

“You could have been a bit nicer about it, seeing that I was desperate.”

“Could have...but it wouldn’t have changed the facts.” 

Liam has to grudgingly admit to himself that he has a point but still...it costs nothing to be polite. Not that it matters, because he will be gone very soon and back to civilisation.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he says. “Could you possibly order a taxi to the train station for me? My phone has no signal.”

“We have neither a taxi company nor a train station in this village. According to the local news, the rail services are severely disrupted and it will take a taxi a while to get here. The roads are pretty bad. Hope you’re not in a hurry,” the landlord says, and adds as an afterthought,” but I’ll call one, if you want.” 

At last a helpful gesture.

“If you have no public transport, how do you get around if you don’t have a car?” Nowadays, Liam can’t imagine a life without trains and trams available twenty-four hours a day. 

“With great difficulty.”

Liam’s decision making skills are usually not too bad but occasionally he fails to think things through - like now. 

“So you do have a car?”

“Yes...why?”

“Because I would like you to drive me to Dublin.” It sounds even worse when he says it out loud and if there was a different solution he would take it.

“Did you hit your head coming down?” Zayn snorts. “Why would I wanna do that?”

Liam has the bit between his teeth now. He needs to get to the capital and he needs to get there soon. “You want to do that because I will pay you five hundred pounds plus petrol. It’s only a few hours away , so even if the roads are not perfect, you can make it there and back in a day.” 

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Five hundred pounds?”

“Yes, and I’m guessing you could use the money.” Liam glances pointedly around the room. He is aware that it’s a cheap shot and kind of regrets saying it when Zayn’s expression changes from amused to defiant. 

“Not sure who you think you are, but I don't need your charity. Kindly piss off, please.” 

Zayn gets up abruptly, sauntering over to the bar, clearly done with this conversation. Liam can't fathom why he is handling things so badly. Something about Zayn both fascinates and irritates him. Something that goes deeper than his looks. And aside from that, Liam still hasn’t solved his predicament. Exhaling loudly, he gets up and approaches Zayn, who is busying himself behind the counter. 

“Um...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said that. I only wanted to point out that we would both benefit from it.” 

Liam runs his fingers through his hair, not really expecting a response. To his surprise, Zayn stops what he is doing, crosses his arms in front of his chest and studies him for a long, awkward moment. 

“Fine,” he says eventually. “If you promise to keep your superior attitude to yourself and talk only when necessary.”

“Ok.” Liam is ready to agree to anything at this point, if it means he can leave.

Zayn grabs a set of keys from a hook on the wall, shrugs on a heavy grey cardigan and ushers Liam through the backdoor into a small yard. To Liam’s utter despair, the only vehicle in sight is a battered Golf with an orange passenger door on the otherwise green vehicle. The old banger is riddled with dents and rust spots, which fills Liam with a terrible sense of foreboding.

“This is your car?” he asks, hoping that a shiny new motor is waiting just around the corner. But he is hoping in vain. 

“Yep, that’s my girl. She’s more reliable than she looks. You have to leave your stuff on the backseat...the boot is jammed.” 

Zayn has actual pride in his voice, and the flippant response Liam has, dies on his lips. Instead, he puts his luggage down, walking over to the car to take a closer look at the boot. A small key sticks out from the rusty and buckled lock. But he didn’t spend most of his teenage years learning how to fix things just to be beaten by an uncooperative vehicle.

“Got anything that I can use for lubrication?”

“Possibly, but isn’t that a bit presumptuous? We’ve only just met.” Zayn quips, his lips twisted into a mocking smirk.

Oh great, now he’s a comedian. 

Liam takes the bottle of WD40, which Zayn pulls from under the driver’s seat and after a few squirts and wiggles, the key turns and the boot screeches open. He stows his bags and takes his place in the passenger seat.

“Not just a pretty face then,” Zayn says casually, turning the key in the ignition and on planet Zayn that probably serves as a thank you.

*****

Liam doesn’t enjoy silence at the best of times; he likes to chat and he has about a hundred questions he wants to ask Zayn, but he sticks to the prescribed talking ban as agreed. On the surface, Zayn looks disinterested even bored but he drums his fingers on his thigh to an inaudible tune and every so often a tiny smile appears on his lips. Liam would love to know what he is thinking about. 

At least the lack of conversation gives him the opportunity to let his mind wander. The green, rolling hills remind him a lot of the landscape surrounding Wolverhampton. There are times when he longs to be home and he would go back more often, if it wasn’t for his parents, who drove him away in the first place with their narrow minds and ignorant views. Not that they are aware of Liam’s sexuality; he hasn’t shared that with anyone, but he knows from past discussions what they think about the ‘misguided’ as they like to call those who don’t fit their idea of normality, and so he was glad when he got the job with Cherrie and was able to escape across the Atlantic. 

They make good progress at first, but half an hour into the journey, an accident on the main road forces Zayn onto a narrow lane where he has to reduce the already slow speed to a crawl as the result of numerous pot holes. The universe is clearly conspiring against Liam and he doesn’t even want to contemplate the consequences if he can’t make it to Dublin in time because of stupid storms and stupid heaps that masquerade as cars and most of all stupidly gorgeous yet stubborn inn keepers who insist on going at a snail’s pace. 

“Is this the best speed you can do?” he asks, a little more whiny than he intended.

Zayn scowls at him, then trains his eyes back on the road. “I’m trying incredibly hard to remember why I agreed to this, and you know what? I got nothing.”

“For a lot of money,” Liam wants to say, changing his mind at the last moment because what would be the point? Instead, he closes his eyes, ignoring the way the car lurches along the treacherous road and for another hour or so, the two men return to their own thoughts.

Then, out of nowhere, Zayn’s voice slices through the silence. “Thanks for fixing the boot.”

“No problem. To be fair, you could’ve easily done it yourself.”

“Doubtful...I’m severely technically challenged. And I don’t need to use it; my stuff is there.” Zayn says, pointing to a rucksack on the back seat.

Liam is considering his response, when a series of jolts make the car shudder before it dies, rolling backward into a massive hole.

After climbing out of the vehicle to assess the damage, both men just stand and stare helplessly. They are stuck in what could be classified as a minor crater. Zayn’s pride and joy is half submerged in murky water with a twisted front wheel and a ripped off bumper. 

“Looks like we’re fucked,” Zayn deadpans.

“Agreed,” Liam says. “Any ideas what we should do?”

“From what I remember, there is a guest house maybe an hour’s walk from here.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

But Zayn isn’t. He is already unloading the luggage, placing it on a dry patch at the curb.

“Nope, we have obviously come too far to turn back, so the only option is to cut our losses and --” He is interrupted by an off road vehicle, that passes them before stopping a few meters ahead. 

A scruffy, middle-aged man gets out and approaches the two stranded men. “Couldn’t help but notice that you’re in a spot of bother. I’d be happy to give you a lift. Hand me your suitcase and I’ll put it in my car for you.” he offers, studying them out of narrowed eyes. 

“Would you? That’d be amazing...come on Zayn.” 

Liam doesn’t hesitate. He goes to grab his case, thinking that all his Christmases have come at once. Perhaps his streak of bad luck has finally finished. 

But Zayn stays where he is, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t recommend that. He could be anyone...doesn’t even have a number plate.” he urges, his warning falling on deaf ears as Liam hands his laptop bag over to the stranger. 

He walks back to collect his case and to ask Zayn what his plans are when he hears the engine of the other car roar to life, and the only thing he sees when he looks over his shoulder is the vehicle disappearing in the distance. To say that he is stunned would be a vast understatement. He can feel the colour drain from his face and the blood rushing in his ears as he stands rooted to the spot. His whole life is stored on that laptop. Thankfully, the content is encrypted which should save him and his employer from major embarrassment. And why the hell did he put his phone in it, when he always puts it in his trouser pocket. ALWAYS. And just when he thinks he has grasped the extent of his loss, he remembers the ring. What the fuck was he thinking, putting all his valuables into one bag and then gifting it to a highway robber? Apparently his common sense has taken the day off and he can’t blame Zayn for thinking he’s a clueless moron. If that’s what he is thinking. Not that it matters what Zayn thinks. Or does it? Why would he even consider Zayn when he should be worrying about Cherrie’s reaction when she finds out that the ridiculously expensive ring is gone? A distinct feeling of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Zayn who is finishing a phone call. Liam is sure he can see pity in his eyes and that’s just fun-bloody-tastic. Being pitied by an incredibly fuckable guy is just what he doesn’t need.

“The mechanic can’t make it today, so I’m gonna head to that guesthouse and he’ll pick me up from there tomorrow,” Zayn informs him.

“Does anyone around here ever do anything as a matter of urgency?” Liam’s voice is dripping with exasperation. 

“You get used to it,” Zayn says, tilting his head. “Sooo...you’ve lost your laptop, yeah?”

“Yeah”

“Is it insured and the data secure?”

“Yes.” Liam says, barely able to hide his impatience. All he wants to do is to get to Dublin and preferably today.

Zayn evidently is not finished with this line of questioning. “That all?”

“My phone, if you must know.”

Liam fully expects a sizeable amount of ridicule to come his way, but it doesn’t materialise. Zayn simply passes him his phone.

“I think I saw it was an Iphone, right? Log in and wipe it; at least then, they can’t get to your private stuff.”

Liam does as he is told and hands the mobile back. “Thanks...you can say it now.”

“Say what?”

“I told you so. I can practically see it sitting on the tip of your tongue.”

Zayn replies with a smile that is as much condescending as it is breathtaking. He even has the audacity to wink at him when he bends down to shoulder his rucksack. “Let’s go then,” he says. “It gets dark quite early and we don’t wanna make ourselves a target for another criminal attack now, do we?”

Tosser.

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny,” Liam huffs but reaches for his case nonetheless.

“You’ve been an idiot...you have to admit. And all because you’re in such a fucking hurry to get to Dublin. What’s so important that you can’t be a little late anyway?”

Liam has every intention to blank the insufferable individual to his left, but somehow he fails at that as well. 

“I’m getting engaged,” he says, unable to stop himself. “And the ring is in the laptop bag.” Cut it out already with the oversharing, Liam.

Unsurprisingly, there is no sympathy in the sideways glance Zayn throws him. If anything,  
the atmosphere is suddenly a couple of degrees frostier. Zayn storms ahead and Liam has to skip occasionally to keep up with him. His dress shoes are frequently slipping on the wet, uneven surface. 

A good ten minutes later, Zayn finds his voice again. “Well, on the upside, you have less to carry,” he quips but Liam is very much done with his shit. He is cold, and his feet hurt almost as much as his pride. 

“Does being an asshole come naturally to you or do you have to work at it?” he spits. 

It was meant to be a hurtful insult and the last thing he expects is Zayn throwing his head back and laughing out loud. But he does. And not at all in a mocking way either.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable when you act all indignant while simultaneously looking like a kicked puppy?” 

What’s that supposed to mean? Liam had been aiming for cutting sarcasm. Clearly Zayn didn’t get it. Well fine, if he wants to be a dick; two can play that game.

They spend the next few hours barely uttering a syllable until they eventually arrive at the guesthouse. Liam can’t recollect a more pleasing sight in all of his twentyfour years. The ‘Welcome Inn’ is a big improvement on Zayn’s run down establishment. It somewhat resembles Liam’s nan’s house with its oak furnishings, frilly curtains and floral patterned carpets, but it feels warm and welcoming, just like the name suggests. The elderly man at the reception desk is precisely what an Irish innkeeper should look like. Dressed in a woolly jumper and corduroy trousers, he tips his flat cap as the two men enter the lobby.

“Good afternoon folks; what brings you here in this god awful weather?” he greets them.

“I’m hoping for a room. My car is stranded in a pothole and the garage can’t tow it until tomorrow,” Zayn says.

“You’re in luck; we have one left. Can you sign in here, please?” The man opens a large book, ready for his guest to enter his details.

Zayn fills in the form, awarding the man one of his blinding trademark smiles. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Zayn Malik? Aren’t you the lad who wants to revive the ‘Muddy Traveller’?” 

So his surname is as beautiful as his first name. Why is Liam not surprised?

Zayn nods and the landlord reaches out to grab and shake his hand. “In that case, there will be no charge. What are neighbours for, eh?”

Liam wonders briefly in what universe someone who lives several hours of travelling away could be described as a neighbour as the old man addresses him. “Are you two together? I’m afraid the room’s a single one. It’ll be a bit of a squeeze.”

“Oh no, I’m just here to ask how to get to the next town as fast as possible,” Liam says.

“The answer is not at all today, son. Public transport ain’t running till tomorrow.” 

This can’t be happening. Surely, he will wake up any second in his Chicago flat and discover that this was just a horrible dream. He clamps his eyes shut, but when he opens them again, he still finds himself in the middle of this nightmare. He is acutely aware that is standing there, just staring open-mouthed like a star struck goldfish.

“Not even for a higher price?” he eventually manages to ask.

The innkeeper shrugs, shaking his head apologetically and Liam is about to beg for a broom cupboard when Zayn speaks up.

“No problem, we share the room. Can we have an extra blanket?”

“Sure, I’ll have someone bring it up. We serve a hot meal in the pub until 7pm. You’re very welcome to join us,” the old man assures them, picking up the phone to arrange the extra bedding.

“I’ll have that food now...you coming?” Zayn asks, already turning towards the seating area.

Liam doesn’t think that he can face food right now. Must be the jet lag catching up with him. He is shattered and unable to sit through a meal with that pestilent being in front of him. His emotions are conflicted and all over place and instead of focusing on his upcoming engagement, his thoughts are circling around the fact that after tomorrow, he won’t see Zayn ever again and there is nothing he can do to change that. Maybe if they had longer together, they could iron out the misconceptions between them. Sure, Zayn has been a prat at times but he also helped him out, and every so often Liam can see something in his golden brown eyes that makes his heart lurch in his chest. 

“No, I’m beat..I’ll report the theft and then I’ll go up...see you later. I’ll leave the door open,” Liam declines. Zayn is already almost out of earshot though and probably relieved, to rid himself off Liam’s presence for a short while.

After using the payphone to call the police, Liam climbs the spiraling staircase to the first floor, where the room is one of three on that landing. It is furnished with a bed, a large armchair, a desk and a built-in wardrobe. The decor is the same as downstairs; dated but cosy with a double bed that is quite small and would barely qualify as a single in the states. He makes up his mind right there and then that he is going to sleep on the floor. 

However, when he comes out of the tiny bathroom after his shower, Zayn is busy arranging the spare blanket and a second pillow on the armchair. 

“What are you doing?” Liam asks.

“Getting ready to sleep...what’s it look like?” 

Zayn is actually planning on sleeping in that armchair. Well, not on Liam’s watch. 

“Not a chance. This is your room, remember? It’s your bed and I’ll take the floor.” 

He steps in front of Zayn, hoping to talk some sense into him. Unfortunately, it dawns on him far too late, that he is trying to be assertive, wearing only his joggers which are hanging low on his hips. It seems that his predicament is not lost on Zayn either because he openly gapes, drinking in every inch of his body. Liam hopes fervently that Zayn will put the deep red flushes that are creeping all over his skin, down to the hot shower. The desire that Liam thinks he can see in Zayn’s eyes, is most likely down to his imagination or worse yet, to wishful thinking. Before he can make up his mind which one it is, Zayn’s expression changes to his customary semi-bored one. 

“Listen, I can sleep virtually anywhere. You, on the other hand, are evidently used to more comfortable surroundings. Besides, you’ve had a bit of a traumatic time of late; you can have the bed.”

He actually thinks that Liam is some kind of posh boy. What a joke. Liam would like to set him straight right now. Would like to tell him that, up until recently, he lived in a cramped council house, that he had to work multiple jobs to get through technical college and that he made a deal with the devil to get away from a home that cramped him both physically and emotionally. But what good would it do? Tomorrow morning, they will part company and the whole episode will be a funny story that one day, Zayn can entertain his kids with.

With a resigned shrug, he crawls under the covers, listening to Zayn switching off the light and settle himself into the armchair. Liam hasn’t been shattered like this in a long time, yet the desperately needed sleep refuses to come. Every time he is close to dropping off, Zayn tosses and turns in his chair, cursing under his breath. Liam stares into the darkness for what feels like hours, wanting to comment whilst at the same time dreading to be at the receiving end of another one of Zayn’s cutting retorts. Finally, he reaches the end of his tether. 

“Zayn, come and lay down; we need some rest,” he says as calmly as possible. 

“M’fine...go get your rest...no one’s stopping you,” Zayn muffles from across the room. 

“Don’t lie, Zayn. You’re uncomfortable and just too stubborn to admit it. So stop being such a bloody-minded dickhead and get into this bed.”

Oh God, that sounded all kinds of wrong and as much as he would have loved to have said it under different circumstances, he can’t let on to Zayn how much he messes with his head. And so he adds hastily, ”it’s plenty big enough for both of us.”

For several heartbeats nothing happens, but then he can hear Zayn getting up, still huffing a string of expletives. He can feel the mattress dipping down and Zayn sliding in next to him, hogging most of the blanket in the process. Liam has to smile at that, even though he is dead beat and now also a little bit cold where his one arm and one leg are exposed. This situation should feel awkward but for some reason it just doesn’t. It sounds like Zayn has crossed over into the land of nod as soon as his head hit the pillow. Liam can feel the warmth radiating from him and he can hear the little snuffly noises he makes. It takes a lot of willpower not to reach out and touch his skin. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he should have never asked Zayn to be his driver. He could have sat it out for one day and then taken a taxi to Dublin. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money; after all, he offered it to Zayn. Yes, it absolutely would have been the logical thing to do. He wouldn’t have lost his possessions and he wouldn’t be lying here in a bed with a snuffling guy who hates him and only a fraction of the blanket he had five minutes ago. But logical thought went out the window pretty much the moment he came face to face with Zayn. Ever since leaving Dingle, Liam has been trying his hardest not to acknowledge the feelings he is beginning to harbour for his stroppy travelling companion. It wouldn’t be so bad if these feeling were pure lust. Liam could remedy that with a few timely wanks and maybe a bit of regret. But Zayn is getting under his skin good and proper. Liam is experiencing a growing need to know everything there is to know about him, where he has been and what his hopes and dreams for the future are. Obviously, none of this makes a blind bit of sense, seeing that Zayn clearly doesn’t feel the same and Liam is on the verge of making a life choice where hot guys with bambi eyes and velvety voices don’t feature. He presses the balls of his hands onto his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind, but it’s no use. So he resorts to staring into the dark, doing his best to disregard these ridiculous thoughts that are are rattling around in his head until sleep overcomes him.

*****

Intense sunlight filters through the thin curtains, causing Liam to squint and for a disorienting moment he struggles to recall where he is but then all the horrors of the previous day come flooding back. The next thing he notices is that he is squashed against the cold wall and there is an unfamiliar weight on his right arm. What he sees when he turns his head, sets off a flare of panic inside him. Zayn’s cheek is pressed against his shoulder and his hand grips Liam’s bicep. This could be a disaster should Zayn suddenly wake up. Not that Liam made any of this happen, but Zayn isn’t going to see it like that. He is going to flip. Liam keeps as still as he can, considering his next move. His first impulse is to bury his face into Zayn’s hair, which is, for obvious reasons, a terrible idea. He needs to get out of bed without Zayn knowing that this ever happened. On the other hand, Zayn looks so peaceful and he makes these small moaning sounds and his cheek is so soft and Liam would really rather stay like this forever but the longer he hesitates, the bigger the likelihood of him waking and ripping Liam’s head off. Besides, his nearly bursting bladder presents Liam with an additional problem that he can’t ignore. Holding his breath, he gently peels Zayn’s fingers off his arm, shuffling carefully downwards and out of the bed. He throws a last glance backwards, pressing a fist on his throbbing erection, which is one hundred percent because of his need to pee and absolutely nothing else. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, he roots through his suitcase, grateful for the cosy, blue jumper, some jeans and the trainers he finds. Zayn stirs behind him, stretching against the sheets and arching his back. Liam has to look elsewhere since his dick has only just regained control of itself. 

“Urgh...where are you going? It’s the middle of the night,” Zayn grumbles into his pillow. 

“It’s quarter to twelve, meaning check out is in fifteen minutes. I’ll grab a quick bite...might see you downstairs then,” Liam says, zipping his case shut.

“No no wait, I’ll come with you to Tralee; that’s the next town with a train station.” Zayn jumps out of bed, still wearing that red henley, and shrugs on his jeans and boots. It’s definitely the fastest Liam has seen him move since he met him.

“Aren’t you forgetting your car?”

Zayn shrugs dismissively. “Pretty sure it’s a goner and Paddy, the mechanic, is going to pick me up from Tralee instead. Don’t want you to get into any more trouble.” 

Why would he do that? Why would he be concerned? Then it dawns on him. 

“If you’re worried about your money, I will still pay you. It’s not your f-”

That’s how far he gets when Zayn cuts him off sharply. 

“Fuck your money; I don’t want it. Just don’t wanna be responsible for a clueless townie coming to any harm.”

Liam is confused to say the least. Now he doesn’t want the money? But that’s why he agreed to do it in the first place. Didn’t he?

Not understanding why he is so angry and not wanting to aggravate him further, Liam picks up his suitcase and leaves the room ahead of Zayn. They grab a couple of granola bars at the reception prior to heading for the bus station, which according to the innkeeper should be no more than a few minute’s walk up the road. The silence between them isn’t exactly uncomfortable but Liam is itching to ask Zayn for a more elaborate explanation as to why he is presently accompanying him to the next town instead of getting his own problems sorted. In the end he decides against it. They catch a lucky break at the stop because as they arrive, they can see the bus approaching. Liam had visions of having to wait in the small brick shelter with a petulant Zayn, who is now, more than ever, unwilling to communicate. The entire journey to Tralee passes without a single word between them. Beside him, Zayn is leaning against the window, his eyes closed and Liam is once more left to admire his beauty without a chance to ever explore beneath that carefully erected facade. 

In Tralee, they ask the driver for directions to the main station and are relieved to learn that they don’t have far to go. Walking along, Liam resolves to clear the air a little.

“Look Zayn, I really appreciate what you did for me, taking me and sharing your room and all that but I’m ok from here. You sure that you don’t want the money?”

Zayn’s reaction isn’t quite what he was expecting. He places an index finger on his lips, motioning Liam to be quiet. He waves his other hand towards a group of dense shrubs.

“Do you hear that?” he asks.

“I’m trying to be nice here and I’m trying to say goodbye and you -” Liam starts to say instead of answering the question but Zayn hushes him, gesturing again towards the shrubs.

“Listen,” he urges.

Liam abandons his farewell speech and does as he is requested to do. At first he hears nothing but then a faint yelp reaches his ears and it positively comes from within those bushes. 

He sets his luggage down, exchanging a knowing glance with Zayn. Without having to discuss it, they slowly approach the shrubs. The yelping has stopped and they search blindly among the branches when Zayn’s face lights up. 

“There you are...shhh, it’s ok...don’t be scared...oh god you’re hurt...come on, let’s have a look at you,” he coos, which tugs at Liam’s heartstrings. 

The shivering bundle, that Zayn is cradling in his arms, turns out to be a small black dog, whose curly fur is mud-crusted with blood seeping down his right front paw. The animal is clearly in agony but shivers visibly less with every soothing word that Zayn says. Liam has to admit, that he is in awe. Witnessing this side to Zayn makes it even more difficult to pretend that he is not hopelessly falling for him.

An engraved plaque on the dog’s red collar informs them that his name is Rascal; a name that he is certainly living up to. 

“Maybe we should ring the RSPCA to look after him until they can find his owners,” Zayn suggests. 

“No, he needs help now. I don’t want him to hurt any longer than he has to. Can you go on Google Maps and see if there’s a vet in town?” Liam asks, tenderly petting the animal. He pulls his tie from his case, tying it above Rascal’s injury in the hope that animal and human first aid are somewhat similar. 

Zayn throws him a curious look but doesn’t argue. He pulls his phone from his pocket and within seconds has the information they are looking for. 

“There is one three streets away, and it’s open...should I ring?”

“Nah, we’re going regardless.They’re not gonna turn away an injured animal. If we have to wait, we’ll wait.” Liam feels good about himself for the first time in days. At last he is helping someone else and not merely stewing in his own problems. 

Zayn nods, hugging Rascal closer and Liam thinks that the soft smile on his lips might actually be aimed at him as well as the dog. 

They follow the directions on the phone, arriving at the animal clinic in no time. A young man with long blond hair, tied in the back, and an imposing beard greets them on entry. 

“Hi, I’m Andy; one of the nurses here. I take this little one needs some assistance?”

Zayn steps closer, presenting Rascal to the nurse. “His paw is bleeding and he seems to be in a lot of pain.” Rascal lets out a heart wrenching wail as if to underline that point. 

Andy takes a quick look, pursing his lips during the assessment. Then he hands a clipboard and pen to Liam.

“This little guy has been in a scrap with someone much bigger. Fiona is the vet on duty today. She is with a patient right now and then there is a rather poorly rabbit in front of you, but I can fit him in after that. Can you please fill in this form with his details and medical history?” 

“It’s not our dog. We found him on the side of the path,” Zayn says.

Liam muses absently that he quite likes the ‘we’ in that statement as he assures Andy. “There’s no issue with the cost. I’ll cover that.”

Zayn huffs at that but says nothing, passing Rascal to the nurse after placing a kiss on the dog’s head. Andy takes his patient through to the back and Liam and Zayn take a seat in the waiting room. Sitting across from them is a lady with a springer spaniel who is wearing a plastic cone and a young couple who are fussing over a mewling kitten in a travel box. 

Zayn is leaning forward, resting his forearm on his thighs, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“He’s gonna be ok. These people look very competent,” Liam says, squeezing Zayn’s shoulder briefly.

Zayn gives him a sideways glance, then looks down again. “Yeah, he’s in good hands and maybe you’re not such a dick after all.”

“You thought I was the dick?” Liam is genuinely astonished. 

“Well, you’re the one who barges into places making demands, and you do like to flash your cash, thinking that solves everything.” 

Liam barks out a humourless laugh. “It’s not my money.”

“What?”

“It belongs to my boss.”

“Your boss?” Zayn’s head snaps up. “Why would your boss pay for your engagement trip?”

Following a lengthy pause, Liam says, “Because it’s my boss I’m getting engaged to.”

“How convenient. So it’s just as well you only had to fork out that hundred quid so far, isn’t it? Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to pay the vet bill.” The snarky undercurrent had crept back into Zayn’s voice but Liam will not be misinterpreted like this. 

“I’ll pay for that with my own money. Believe it or not; I care about that little guy,” he protests hotly.

He never finds out if Zayn believes him because Andy comes towards them, a bandaged Rascal in his arms. “He’s going to be fine. Fiona cleaned the wound and stitched him up. Also, he is chipped and we have contacted his owners. Therefore there will be no cost for you. The family would like to show their appreciation and pay you an award for rescuing their pet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Liam and Zayn say in unison before giggling at their couple behaviour and dispersing the tension that had built up between them. They take turns to hug Rascal good bye, thank Andy and step back out on the street. 

“Don’t know about you, but I’m close to starvation. Wanna go for some lunch? I have cash to spare, remember?” Liam is not fibbing, he is famished, but mainly he wants to drag out the inevitable moment when Zayn leaves his life for good.

Zayn lifts one shoulder then lets it drop. “Fine by me. S’been a while since we had anything meaningful to eat.”

They find a small Italian restaurant where they get shown to a quiet corner table. The bubbly waitress takes their order, blushing periodically when Zayn asks her what she recommends and Liam compliments her on her speedy service when the food arrives. They have both opted for lasagne and mixed salad. Seems like they can agree on something after all.

“You can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but why didn’t you and your boss travel to Dublin together if an engagement is on the cards? And isn’t he wondering what’s keeping you?” Zayn asks, scooping up a forkful of his delicious looking lasagne. 

Liam’s breath catches in his throat. Why would Zayn assume he’s with a man when he is so well practised at hiding that part of his life? He gulps down half of his coke, buying himself some time to compose himself. 

“It’s a she and it’s complicated,” he finally mumbles, dabbing his napkin against his mouth.. 

“Is that so? Interesting,” is all Zayn has to say as he stabs viciously at a slice of cucumber in his salad bowl.

Liam doesn’t want the uncomfortable atmosphere from earlier to return and talking about his engagement isn’t going to help with that. 

“And what’s your story?” he asks, prodding Zayn lightly in the arm. “You haven’t shared anything personal.” 

“It’s not really my style to talk about myself. Besides, there’s nothing much to tell. I suck at running a guesthouse and I suck at being a chauffeur. But you already know that.” 

Liam is intent on getting at least some of his questions answered, so after finishing his meal he tries again. 

“What’s the deal with the inn? How did you end up there?”

“A bet had something to do with it,” Zayn says, doing that dragging his thumb along his lower lip thing again and Liam is once again fascinated.

But he can’t get distracted like that. This is his chance to get some inside information on Zayn and he can’t blow it by letting his mind wander to these places.

He clears his throat and probes gently. “That’s a brave bet and fortune favours the brave. Isn’t that what they say?”

“The brave maybe, but not the stupid,” Zayn says, now nibbling on said bottom lip. 

Tearing his eyes away from Zayn’s mouth is all Liam can do to prevent himself from making a huge mistake.

Luckily, Zayn continues to speak. “It wasn’t just the bet though. There were other factors…”

“Go on,” Liam coaxes when Zayn pauses. 

Zayn puts his folded hands on the table. “Things at home were getting me down. There was a guy; I really liked him and I thought he felt the same way but it turned out he just wanted a fling.”

“I’m sorry, Zayn,” Liam fights the urge to pull Zayn into a hug.

“Nah...don’t be,” Zayn says, smiling. “On top of that, my job wasn’t the dream I had hoped for. I’m a teacher, by the way. But instead of inspiring kids it’s really all about statistics and paperwork. And so I was a soft target for that bet.”

Liam is speechless. Zayn is a teacher and he is into men and he is actually opening up to Liam. Somehow the tide has shifted. Their relationship has completely changed in the last few hours. Gone are the the sarcastic jibes and the suspicious glares. How did that happen so fast? For a split second he imagines what his future might have been like if he had met him earlier and if things were different, then Zayn’s voice shakes him out of his reverie. 

“You still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just amazed by your story. So what was the bet?” Liam asks, calling the waitress over to order some coffees. He should probably make a move and sort out the rest of his trip instead of entertaining unattainable fantasies, but staying here with Zayn for a little while longer is just too tempting and it can’t do any harm. Can It? He cuts off that train of thought before the answer transpires. 

The coffees arrive and Zayn picks up where he left off. “I was out drinking one night and a mate talked about this Irish inn that he’d inherited. It needed work, he said, but he was gonna go and make a success of it. He came back after two months, disillusioned and ready to sell up. I had a few, boasting that I could do much better and we made a deal that if I stick it out for a year, I can have it really cheap. I never fancied myself as an innkeeper but I had to open my big mouth and here I am.”

Liam must have been stirring the same sugar cube into his coffee for the past five minutes. He could sit there, gazing at and listening to Zayn forever. 

“You’re gonna stir a hole into that cup,” Zayn quips and there is nothing Liam can do about the rising heat in his cheeks. He stops stirring, feeling a little bit caught out.

“You could always admit defeat and go home,” he suggests, before the crimson tinging his face gets too embarrassing.

Zayn rests his chin in his hand. “I could, but the thing is; I like the place. And not only the inn. I love the open spaces and how quiet it can be. The locals are great. I mean you’ve met Niall and he’s a gem. They are by and large helpful, supportive people.”

“I can understand that,” Liam says. “The landscape is stunning. When we were driving along, I was imagining my dog roaming through those fields. He would love that.”

“You have a dog?” 

“A Husky, yes. I’ve had him since he was a puppy.”

A dreamy expression comes over Zayn’s face. “We’ve always had dogs at home in Bradford. When the inn is up and running, I’ll have at least three. What’s your dog’s name?”

“Loki,” Liam says, and by way of explanation he adds,” I’m a huge Marvel fan.”

Zayn almost jumps out of his seat. “Really? Me too,” he enthuses.

And then the floodgates open. In between numerous additional coffee orders, they talk about movies, comics, music and tv shows. The more time passes, the more apparent it becomes that they have a hell of a lot in common. Liam is having the best afternoon of his life and there is a tiny hope growing in his heart that maybe he could stay in contact with Zayn on facebook or something, and maybe he could talk to him every once in a while. The thought of never hearing from him again causes a dull ache in Liam’s stomach.

After hours of animated chatter, Zayn suddenly gets out his mobile and drumming his fingers on the table, he scans the screen. 

“Oh shit,” he says, pocketing his phone. “The last train to Dublin goes in seven minutes and you're not gonna make it.” 

Liam knows that this piece of news should set off all kinds of alarm bells, but much to his surprise he can’t even detect a flicker of concern. Quite the opposite. 

“Oh damn,” he says half-heartedly. And then he has a sudden thought. Wasn’t Zayn supposed to be on his way back to Dingle long ago? Wasn’t that mechanic going to pick him up earlier today?

“When is your lift coming to get you?” he asks as casual as he can. 

“He’s not.”

“But you said…”

“I lied.”

He lied. Normally, Liam doesn’t appreciate being lied to, but this particular one is actually music to his ears. Fate is presenting him with an unexpected opportunity to prolong his time with Zayn and he is more than prepared to push away the fact that this will only make things so much more unbearable tomorrow. He is not even going to ask why he lied, in case it’s not what he wants to hear. Zayn wants to be friends. That’s the reason Liam has constructed in his head, and it makes him feel a tiny bit better about all the things that are looming in his immediate future. 

Not wanting to give Zayn the chance to destroy his reasoning, he gets up, settles the bill and motions Zayn to follow him out of the restaurant. 

“I think I saw a hotel down the road.” Liam points in the direction from which they had come into town. “Seems like we’ve been here before,” he adds with a chuckle.

Zayn’s eyes flash across to him but he doesn’t reply. They continue walking until they stand in front of the hotel, where there is a party going on which is spilling out onto the path. People of varying ages filter in and out of the building, chatting and laughing. It must be a wedding, if the amount of women in hats are anything to go by. Liam reckons that the odds of an available room are against them and he is about to tell Zayn that, when a guy of roughly his age with a carnation in the lapel of his grey suit, comes to stand in front of them.

“Hey lads, you look lost,” he greets them, his piercing blue eyes sparkling. 

“We need a room and it doesn’t look like we’ll find one here,” Zayn says, smiling that same smile that he awarded the last innkeeper; super friendly but cautious. Liam feels a small surge of joy when he realises that the smiles Zayn has been displaying that afternoon were different; warmer, softer, more genuine. But best of all, they were reserved for him, for Liam Payne. His theory that Zayn likes him at least a little bit just gained some traction.

The guy in the suit takes a step forward and proceeds to shake their hands. “I’m Louis, and I have excellent news for you. I got married today but some of my mates couldn’t make it over from England, so there should be a twin room available,” he beams. 

The universe is treating him kindly again. Liam could get used to this. Perhaps it’s to make up for the crap it has dealt him lately or perhaps it’s just a last reprieve before he returns to his downward spiralling real life. 

“Congratulations; I’m Liam and this is Zayn and...what can I say? Thank you so much.” Liam beams back and even Zayn looks suitably impressed.

“That’s that sorted then,” Louis says, taking them both by the arm and steering them into the building. “And when you’re settled in, you can join us down here; the booze is on us.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t impose on you like that. You haven’t even discussed it with your bride,” Liam maintains.

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, lad. Firstly, this is the happiest day of my life and I wish to involve as many people as possible in it and secondly, it was Harry, my husband, who sent me out to speak to you. So you see; no excuse,” he insists, leaving no room for argument. 

Fuck. Liam is stunned for an instant. This guy is walking around, proudly proclaiming to total strangers that he exchanged his vows with another man, whilst his family and friends celebrate the event like there is no problem at all. Louis must be surrounded by amazing people. The brief sting of jealousy that pokes Liam’s chest is completely unfair, but he can’t help it. 

Within the hour, they enter the main hall where the festivities are in full swing. Every wall, chair and table is covered in white, frilly material as a background for the green and blue accessories everywhere. A mixture of Irish songs, current chart hits and classic Motown favourites is blaring from the enormous speakers. 

They circle around the groups of dancing guests to a table at the back, far enough away from the sound system, where a conversation should still be possible. Zayn has changed into a plain black t-shirt and Liam catches himself running his eyes over his perfectly proportioned torso, his narrow waist and his cute ass. In the end he has to wipe his sweaty hands on his own fresh white shirt. He desperately needs to focus on something else, but Zayn bending over to pick up his wallet before sitting down does nothing to make it better. Help arrives in the form of an attractive man with curly, shoulder length hair, dressed in a suit made out of dusky-pink velvet and a white ruffle front shirt, leaving no doubt who has been in charge of the decorations in this venue. 

“Heyyy, Liam...Zayn,” he drawls as he approaches them as if they were old friends.

“Harry, I assume?” Zayn ventures, getting up to be pulled into a bear hug.

“Yes, Harry Tomlinson-Styles to be exact. Doesn’t it have a lovely ring to it?” Harry is grinning from ear to ear, practically glowing with happiness.

Both Liam and Zayn can only nod in the slightly overwhelming presence of this flamboyant creature. Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of response though because he gestures towards the dance floor. “Please, drink and dance the night away. Tomorrow will be here all too soon,” he says, tugging on Liam’s sleeve. 

“I don’t do dancing,” Zayn says, flopping back down onto his chair.

The tugging on Liam’s shirt continues and he decides that Harry is right. He is going to let his hair down a bit and joins the bopping masses. Looking over to their table, he satisfies himself that Zayn is safe and sound and then he loses himself in the rhythm of the music, flitting from one dance partner to another, none of whom he will be able to identify afterwards. It’s quite the adrenalin rush. For the next thirty minutes or so, he even manages to blot out any thoughts about the day ahead.

When he returns to the table, Zayn is staring at his drink, rolling his glass between his hands. The swirling liquid is in danger of lapping over the top, but he doesn’’t seem to notice. Lined up in front of him are several shot glasses, which are filled with some green substance. 

Liam gets himself a beer and pulls up a chair next to Zayn. 

“What on earth are those?” he asks.

“Apple Sourz...want one?”

“No, I’m good...thanks. They look lethal.” Liam isn’t an adventurous drinker and usually sticks to lager. He knows where he’s at with that. Zayn has no such qualms, knocking back three of the shots in quick succession. 

Slamming the third glass onto the table, he turns towards Liam. 

“They’re just what I need. I’ve been thinking you know.”

“Wanna elaborate?” Liam asks.

“See, I’ve been watching Harry and Louis. They’ve tied the knot today and they couldn’t adore each other more. And then I look at you and I wonder. You’re meant to get engaged tomorrow, yet you’re not displaying any signs of a happy man.” Zayn follows that speech with another shot.

Well, shit. Why does he have to be so perceptive? Why does he know Liam for five minutes and sees right through him? It would be great if he could tell Zayn the truth. But how can he tell him that he hasn’t been happy for a very long time and that now that he met him, his misery is likely to quadruple? Maybe he could talk to him about it all. Maybe that would lighten the dull ache that’s been weighing on his chest ever since he agreed to her plan. 

He is expecting Zayn to press for more, but he just sits there, downing two more shots. His eyes are warm and kind though. 

“It’s complicated,” Liam says finally, fidgeting with one of the beer mats on the table. “Have you ever heard of Cherrie Fernandez?”

“A pop singer, isn’t she?” Zayn asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah...she’s my boss and she’s who I’m getting engaged to.” Saying it out loud makes Liam cringe at his own words. 

“That’s brilliant then, right? You made a great catch. What’s the problem?” Zayn asks irritably before abruptly pushing away from the table, heading for the bar and returning, armed with a fresh supply of shots.

“Don’t you think you should slow down?” Liam nods towards the row of glasses once Zayn has settled back into his seat. 

Zayn leans closer, glowering at him. “I want to drink away my feelings, if that’s ok with you,” he says with a hint of petulance. “Are you gonna answer my question?”

Liam would rather like to know more about those feelings Zayn mentioned, but he should probably carry on with his confession while he has the courage. Busying himself with smoothing down the ruffles on the tablecloth to avoid having to look at Zayn, he takes a deep breath and continues to explain.

“It’s totally not like that,” he says, his shoulders slumped. “She is fairly successful in the UK and she certainly has loads of money, but her dream has always been to crack the US. So she came up with the idea to call a press conference about some irrelevant stuff and then I will turn up and she will ask me to marry her. There’s apparently an old Irish leap-year superstition, where it’s lucky for a woman to ask a man to marry her on the 29th of February. She reckons that the Americans are suckers for romantic bullshit like that, and what could be more romantic than a celebrity proposing to her lowly assistant in Ireland on that day?”

“Hang on...I really don’t follow. Are you saying your engagement thingy is a pr stunt?” Zayn asks, his speech beginning to slur.

“Yes...and it won’t stop there. We will get married and then split after a couple of years, because I’ve just been using her for her fame and money and she will be playing the victim.” Liam quickly looks over at Zayn, then back again. He doesn’t even want to think about what this must sound like to somebody else. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Zayn staring at him with a stunned expression. “Fucking hell Liam, are you insane? Who does that? And...and...what’s in it for you? Money? You do a shit thing like that for money?”

Liam winces. Every one of Zayn’s words hits him like the snap of a whip. Of course, he can’t blame Zayn for thinking like that, but these are only half the facts and Liam can’t see how to convey the rest to him without drowning in shame. And so he tries to laugh it off. 

“Yeah, you know how it is. In this life, you have to take the opportunities as they come.”

Zayn leans in again, stabbing an accusing finger at Liam’s chest. “You’re so full of shit. Something else is going on with you, but if you wanna stick to you being a money grabbing asshole; that’s fine by me. Just know that I don’t believe that.”

Liam buries his face in his hands, incapable of a reply. He can hear Zayn getting up and after a while flopping back down on his chair. Hesitantly, Liam glances at him through his fingers to find that Zayn is looking straight at him out of glassy eyes, holding out a fresh beer towards him. In his other hand is a large cocktail, which he chugs almost in one go as if he’s trying to find answers in the bottom of the glass. Liam takes the pint and places it next to his current one. The drink tastes stale on his tongue and he loses the appetite for it altogether. Besides, he should watch over Zayn, who is slowly but surely getting wasted. 

And then, out of nowhere and without permission, sentences that he didn’t want to formulate leave his mouth. “I won’t deny that the money sweetens it. It will help me afterwards to set up my own business, but there is this other issue.” He chokes slightly, needing to take a sip of his beer after all before he can go on.

“If I refuse to do it, she will make it public that I’m...that...that I’m gay.” There, he said it. For the first time in his life, he has admitted to another person that he is attracted to men. 

The silence stretches between them and Liam is certain that this signals the end of his brief but amazing encounter with Zayn Malik. Suddenly, he wishes that it was tomorrow, when he will be able to resume his questionable life plan and start working on trying to forget him. 

Zayn’s wobbly voice cuts into his thoughts. “You haven’t come out to anyone? N-Not even to the people close to you?” 

Liam snorts into his beer. “Especially not to the people who are close to me. My parents wouldn’t accept it and my friends have already cut ties with a few of their mates who came out. That’s another reason why I’ve fled to the states.”

“Some friends,” Zayn mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “And the bitch is threatn-n-threatening to blackmail you?”

“She calls it protecting her investment. But yeah...that’s what it boils down to. She caught me snogging a guy in a club once and that was that. It’s all my own fault though. If I weren’t so weak, such a coward, I wouldn’t be in this hole.” Dragging a hand down the side of his face, Liam now makes full eye-contact with Zayn. In a funny way, he feels lighter having finally told his secret to another soul. 

“You’re neither weak n-nor a coward,” Zayn declares. “Everyone deals diffe-differently with it.”

He doesn’t detest Liam. That’s at least something.

When Zayn extends his arm to pick up the last of his shots, his hand brushes Liam’s, probably by accident. Liam knows that he shouldn’t, but he instinctively spreads his fingers in response, and when he does, Zayn slides their hands together and Liam forgets to breath. 

“Will you dance with me?” Zayn asks so quietly that Liam almost misses it. 

“I thought you hate dancing.” 

“Yeah, but I’m a lil tipsy and I just want this one dance.” It comes out all soft and meek. Zayn lolls his head to one side, pushing his lips into a pout and Liam thinks he might die, he’s so endeared. 

The song that Zayn wants them to dance to is Ed Sheeran’s ‘Tenerife Sea’ and those lyrics couldn’t be more fitting. ‘Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need’ pretty much sums it up. 

On the dancefloor, he isn’t sure what Zayn wants, so he awkwardly reaches for his hands, but the problem solves itself because Zayn is rather unsteady on his feet and sways alarmingly. To prevent him from toppling over, Liam encircles his waist, pulling him closer, hoping that Zayn won’t object. His own heart picks up a pace, both with apprehension and excitement. He needn’t have worried though. Zayn loops his arms around his neck and Liam can feel his body melt against his own. An overwhelming feeling of tenderness surges through him. It’s wholly unfamiliar and a bit scary but at the same time immensely exhilarating. It has nothing to do with sexual desire either, although his body is reacting strongly to Zayn’s presence. No, it’s the urge to protect and cherish this man that fills his entire being.

Thing is; Zayn is obviously an emotional, touchy feely drunk and therefore anything he says and does right now, can’t be taken seriously. Realistically, Liam knows this but he is having a hard time keeping it in mind when Zayn presses his face into his neck and so he is utterly unprepared for Zayn’s next move. Perhaps he is not aware of what he is doing and perhaps it was only supposed to be a small peck, but Zayn lifts his head and captures Liam’s mouth with a hungry kiss. It feels incredible, making every other kiss Liam’s ever had fade into insignificance. Liam knows he should stop him, he knows that a sober Zayn would never kiss him and he knows that he runs the risk of someone recognising him after the engagement and blabbing to the papers, yet somehow, none of that matters now. Nothing matters apart from Zayn. Liam’s fear of being exposed is momentarily overridden by his longing for him. 

Reality comes calling when the music changes. The last notes of ‘Tenerife Sea’ merge with a fast dance track that Liam doesn’t recognise. Zayn is barely able to stand upright, making it impossible for Liam to let go of him. He needs to guide him back to their table but he may be underestimating the size of the challenge. Also, Zayn is less than cooperative, stumbling and giggling every time they make a tiny bit of progress. Eventually, Liam manages to drop him onto his chair. 

“I’m thirsty,” Zayn slurs, reaching for the untouched pint with surprising agility considering the state he is in. Liam watches him demolish the contents in a few long gulps, seeing no point in stopping him, which turns out to be a mistake because as Zayn sets down the empty glass, he starts to slide off the chair. Liam catches his arm at the last moment, steering him back into his seat. 

“Come on, Zayn, we should sack it for tonight.” Liam keeps his hand on Zayn’s arm, just in case.

“Ok, but...I’m gonna be...s-sick,” Zayn announces just before he throws up on Liam’s Nikes. 

Terrific. Liam stares down at his almost new, now ruined trainers. Zayn is blissfully unaware and once more in danger of sliding off his chair but out of nowhere, and for the second time that evening, Harry is there to lend a hand, steadying him by holding on to his shoulders.

“Need to borrow some shoes?” Harry asks, not letting go of Zayn. 

Of course, this embarrassing incident wouldn’t go unnoticed and of course, it has to be one of the newlyweds who spots it. But Harry doesn’t seem to be annoyed. He has shed his jacket and half unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a multitude of tattoos. He is so flamboyant and he owns it. Liam wishes he had some of that charisma and confidence.

“Luckily, I have some spare shoes upstairs... thanks,” Liam says, and with an apologetic smile he adds, “I should really get this one to bed now.”

“Yes, you should.” Harry gives him a peculiar look. “I’ll help you get him upstairs.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disrupt your evening,” Liam objects feebly but Harry has already slung one of Zayn’s arms around his neck.

“I can’t have one of my guest being ill and not do anything to help,” he says, gesturing for Liam to take the other arm.

“He’s not ill; he’s hammered. Nothing that a good night’s kip won’t cure.”

Harry gives him another one of those strange looks. “I consider a broken heart to be an illness,” he says drily as they reach the elevator, a humming Zayn between them.

Just then the lift opens, preventing Liam from asking what he is talking about, but he rectifies that as soon as they get inside.

“Why would you say that? He’s had too much to drink; that’s what his problem is.”

“If you say so.” Harry smirks.

Again the conversation is interrupted when they arrive at the floor and half-carry, half-drag Zayn to the room. Liam has literally no clue what Harry is talking about.

“You don’t sound convinced,” he says, fishing the key card out of his pocket. 

“He is pining after you, and if you don’t mind me saying; you feel the same. It baffles me how you’re not together.” Harry pushes the door open, leading the way to the single bed by the window.

They carefully lower Zayn onto the mattress, pull off his boots and cover him with the duvet.

“You’re off your rocker, mate. Just because you’re currently floating in seventh heaven doesn’t mean that you know what goes on with me and him. We’ve known each other for a grand total of two days and most of that time, we’ve been bickering. Sorry, to blow your theory out of the water.” Liam’s tone is sharp. He shouldn’t react like this, but his emotions are too raw, too confusing. 

Harry is clearly not perturbed by Liam’s offhandish reply because he awards him a benevolent smile. Then he scratches his head, probably contemplating if he should say what he wants to say, but in true Harry fashion, he says it anyway.

“Suit yourself. I knew after about twenty minutes that Louis was the one for me, but you’re right, we’re not you two. I stand by what I said though, you can keep denying it all you want. If you don’t do anything, it will carve a wound into your soul that will be difficult to fix.”

And with that, Harry claps Liam on the shoulder and skips out of the room. 

All Liam can do is nod and wave his hand at the closing door. What the fuck was that just then? Harry had made no sense. He’s a dreamer, a hopeless romantic who can’t possibly know what goes on in Zayn’s head. Unnervingly, he was spot on with his assessment of Liam’s inner turmoil. But if he was right about that…

“Don’t leave me,” Zayn groans, his eyes shut. He is restless, his arm flailing like he is searching for something. It’s funny how drunk people always spout such random stuff.

Liam sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m here, Zayn. Try and get some shuteye.” 

“You... you leave…” Zayn’s voice is barely above a whisper now. He keeps grasping at the air, eventually locating Liam. His clammy hand wraps around Liam’s wrist and that is enough to calm him before he drifts off. His face is so pale and he looks so vulnerable. Liam stays with him until he is sure that Zayn is out for the count.

Hoping for a fast descend into the oblivion of sleep, Liam climbs into the other bed, pulling the cover tightly around himself. His eyelids are heavy, but the relief he craves is not coming. Instead he is tormented by the scenes that are replaying in his brain. There is Cherrie, persuading him to take part in the sham that is their relationship; there is Harry, whose haunting words have shaken Liam to the core and then there is Zayn. Zayn, who has crashed into his life at a time when Liam had a plan; not a very admirable plan, but at least it gave him some sort of direction. Now, everything has been turned upside down, which brings him back to what Harry said, and if he is right, then Liam is cruising towards a disastrous mistake with no idea how to avoid it. Maybe in a few years time, when he has a successful career, he can face his family and tell them, but for the moment, he is scared. 

And despite what Zayn says, he is a miserable coward. 

*****

For one reason or another, Liam has been waking up in hotel rooms for the past three mornings. It reminds him a bit of Groundhog Day, his mum’s favourite movie. He is scarcely awake and drowsy after a rotten night’s sleep, which was interrupted by worries about his future and regular trips to the other side of the room to check on Zayn. But now, he is wide awake because his fellow traveller is nowhere to be seen. The bed by the window is empty, aside from Zayn’s rucksack on top of the rumpled sheets. So, at least he didn’t leave without saying good bye. 

“Zayn?” he calls, propping himself up on his elbows. 

No answer. 

A number of irrational scenarios, involving Zayn coming to harm, pop into Liam’s head and he already has one leg on the floor, when a string of expletives can be heard from the adjacent bathroom. 

“Ouch...fucking hell...shit that hurt.”

Liam smiles, sagging back against his pillows. Zayn swearing repeatedly may be his new favourite thing. It’s hotter than it should be, coming out of his gorgeous mouth.

Zayn appears, gulping down a bottle of water which he must have taken from the mini bar.

“You alright?” Liam asks.

“Stubbed my toe on the fucking sink pedestal.”

“That must be painful...but I mean generally speaking. How are you feeling?” 

Zayn pads over to his bed, finishing the water and tossing the bottle into the waste basket. “Not sure yet...I’d say somewhere between barely alive and almost dead,” he groans. “Got no one to blame but myself, I guess. I never could hack mixing my drinks. Don’t remember a hell of a lot except puking on your trainers. Sorry, bout that. And did we dance? It’s all very fuzzy.”

He doesn’t remember the kiss. He doesn’t remember the emotional rollercoaster he put Liam through.

Zayn’s excessive alcohol intake is probably a blessing in disguise. Part of Liam wishes he did recall it, but what would be the point. This way, they are spared the awkwardness of the morning after.

Liam kicks off the blanket and quickly throws on his clothes, suddenly wanting to get the goodbyes over with. 

“Well, I’m off,” he says, as he gathers his suitcase, mildly annoyed by the tremor in his voice. 

Zayn looks up from lacing his boots. “Ok, I’ll grab another water, and then we can go.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be without any more incidents. I’m a man of integrity...might not have looked like it last night, but I am.”

Liam blows a sigh through his nose. Zayn must really think that he is a bumbling idiot and and it’s not even that far from the truth, if he is honest with himself. Who else sets out on a straight forward journey and then manages to blunder his way from one calamity to another? Liam Payne does; that’s who.

“Fine. Let’s go,” he says, hoping that his attempt at nonchalance is successful.

When Liam hands in they key card, the clerk at the front desk pushes a folded piece of paper across the counter. “Mr. Tomlinson-Styles asked me to give this to you,” he states, smiling courteously. 

Liam nods, opens the note and scans the few words on it.

Think about what I’ve said. Good luck, and let me know how it goes. Maybe we can get together sometime. H.  
PS my number is on the back x

As promised, a mobile number is scribbled on the other side of the paper and it is surrounded by some neatly drawn flowers. Harry really is something else.

“What’s it say? Zayn asks, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. 

Liam folds the note ready to toss in the bin, but then reconsiders and sticks it into his wallet instead. He will keep it as a memento of this trip, and maybe in time he will be able to read it without the crushing feeling of loss that is attached to it at the moment.

“Just Harry, thanking us for coming to the party,” he says and thankfully, Zayn doesn’t want to read it for himself.

They don’t interact much on the short walk to the train station. Zayn keeps fumbling with the zip on his rucksack, which seems to be stuck and in the end, he gives up, throwing it over his shoulder with the side pocket open. Liam is savouring these last stolen hours with him. Today is the day when he will enter into an agreement, that will prevent him from contacting Zayn again for the foreseeable future. Liam’s idea of maybe reaching out to him on social media is a pipe dream because he knows that Cherrie’s lawyers drew up an air tight contract and that any endeavour to breach it would be a disaster for him.

They step into Tralee station just shy of 11 o’clock. It is a drab place with just two platforms and of course the one that they want, is on the opposite side of the tracks. The timetable informs them that the next train to Dublin departs at 11:03. Running is out of the question, seeing that Liam is grappling with his case and Zayn moves like an extra from the Walking Dead, but somehow, they reach the train by the skin of their teeth. 

The carriage they climb into has plenty of available seats. Zayn choses one with a table in the centre, chucking his backpack into the overhead luggage rack. Liam hesitates, unsure whether to sit next to Zayn or across from him. He is not a big fan of travelling backwards though, so he joins Zayn on the forward facing side, storing his case on the opposite seat. Zayn starts yawning again before leaning over the table, his face on his forearm. 

“How come I have a raging hangover and you sit there fresh as a daisy?” he asks, followed by a grisly moan. 

“Because I drank approximately one third of a pint and you worked your way through the entire collection of colourful spirits on offer.”

“Ah...that explains it.” Zayn straightens up, running his fingers through his luscious, if dishevelled hair. “I suppose, you’re keeping your energy for the big occasion later on today, huh?”

So, he does remember things from last night. Liam thinks it best not to dwell on that and simply hums as a means of confirmation. 

The arrival of the snack trolley rescues him from having to talk about it further. Zayn proclaims not wanting to eat ever again and buys more water. Liam opts for a cheese sandwich and a packet of Hula Hoops. 

“You couldn’t have picked a noisier brand of crisps if you tried, could you?” Zayn complains. “Might as well hit me with a sledgehammer.”

“Drama queen,” Liam retaliates but there is no venom in his words.

Zayn nestles deeper into the upholstery, resulting in their legs being pushed together and Liam loses the ability to chew his food properly. Choking and spluttering, he struggles to recover from the last bite of his sandwich going down the wrong way. 

Zayn hands him his bottle of Evian. “And this is exactly why I will deliver you to your destination,” he mocks.

Liam’s throat still feels rough but he got his breath back. “I wonder how I ever made it to twentyfour without your support.” 

“Beats me,” Zayn says, before turning towards the window, his arms locked in front of his chest. After what seems like an eternity, he finally speaks but refuses to look at Liam.

“Running and hiding from your problems isn’t the solution.”

Now he wants to have a profound conversation? When they are this close to Dublin and therefore the end of their brief association? Liam has to nip that in the bud. He would run the risk of revealing what Zayn means to him and he can’t let that happen. It’s better like this, better not knowing, than to suffer a mortifying rejection by Zayn.

“That strategy worked out for you though, wouldn’t you say?” he counters, and he hates himself for it. 

“Dick,” Zayn spits without averting his gaze from the passing landscape.

After that, he nods off and Liam is left with only the silence for company and that is fine by him. Additional words would be too painful while the quietude is kind of comforting. Zayn next to him is comforting. 

The train arrives at Dublin mid afternoon and Zayn is fast asleep. Liam shakes him lightly until he startles awake. 

“We’re here,” Liam says, grabbing both pieces of luggage, leading a still dazed Zayn onto the platform and out of the station. 

Dublin city centre is just as busy and vibrant as it was when Liam came here on holiday one year with his family. Those memories conjure up feelings that seem to belong to someone else’s life entirely.

They get jostled a few times as they thread their way through the crowds, rushing along the packed pavement. 

The Gresham Hotel is an imposing sight on the main street, which oozes luxury and under different circumstances, Liam would have been delighted to be here, but when it comes into view now, his heart sinks. He can spot the press hanging around the lobby from a mile off. 

“What’s going on?” Zayn asks as they approach the steps leading up to the lavish foyer. 

“Paparazzi,” is all Liam can say before they are surrounded by cameras and microphones. This is what Liam detests most about his job. These people are leeches without a care about anyone’s dignity. Zayn is trapped right behind him, unable to escape the wave that’s pushing them forward and into the building. The image of cattle to the slaughter comes to mind. Somebody takes Liam’s suitcase, informing him that it will be held in reception and then, the dreaded moment has arrived. 

“Liam, darling, I was so worried,” a high pitched female voice slices through the air, temporarily hushing the members of the press. Cherrie Fernandez is making her grand entrance.

The wave of camera flashes are blinding, when she flings herself at him, pressing her brightly painted lips onto his. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her cold eyes belying her wide smile. 

Searching desperately for the right response, Liam can feel the pressure increasing in his temples. His mind goes blank.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t....my phone,” he stammers. The paps are certainly getting their money’s worth. 

Cherrie lets go of him, glancing over his shoulder. Her fake smile falters for a second. 

“And who is he?” she demands, glaring at Zayn.

Liam just wants to get this over with. His brain isn’t functioning. He can’t even turn around to reassure Zayn, and so he just utters, “Nobody...he helped me with my luggage; that’s all.”

Cherrie’s eyes narrow, but her false smile is back as she takes Liam’s hand and hauls him into a side room. 

Behind the closed door, she turns on him immediately. “You’ve left me hanging here, not knowing when you will arrive. I am your employer. Care to explain?” she barks, throwing her long, dark hair over her shoulder with a flourish.

“I lost the phone...and the laptop...and the...the ring. They were stolen.” Liam admits, taking a step back, waiting for the onslaught of abuse from the tiny woman in front of him. 

Cherrie remains suspiciously calm. “I’ve always known you’re an imbecile, but you’ve outdone yourself this time, “ she says, and every word is laced with contempt. “Never mind, I’ll deduct the loss from your wages and we’ll have to do it without the ring. Might even be more romantic that way.”

Then her tone switches to threatening. “As for your little friend out there. You think I was born yesterday? The look he gave you was unmistakable. I hope you got that deplorable stuff out of your system, because from today, there will be no more of that. I can’t afford a scandal until it suits me. And you know what the consequences are for you, if you don’t toe the line.”

The thumping in Liam’s head becomes unbearable. Why is he just standing here, taking it like a doormat? Right now, he couldn’t say who he loathes more; her or himself.

“Pull yourself together; we have a performance to give.” Cherrie straightens her skintight dress. Her pretend happiness is back on show as she she strides, ahead of Liam, into the lobby. 

“My apologies folks,” she chimes, throwing her hands into the air. “I needed a moment alone with my assistant.” 

Liam is nauseated by her coy expression. She positions herself in front of the paps, pausing for dramatic effect before she starts her speech.

“Thank you very much for coming, everyone. I have already told you about my plans for my upcoming single, but there is another bit of exciting news I want to share with you.” She puts her arm around Liam’s waist, gazing up at him with faux affection. 

Turning her focus back to the journalists, she carries on,” As you know, I’ve had some horrid relationships in the past and I thought that I would never find the person that would love me for who I am. But when Liam walked into my life, I knew that my prayers have been answered.”

That wholly fictional declaration earns her a round of cheers and applause from her chosen audience. 

“And so, my beloved Liam, I want to ask you if you would do me the honour and agree to be my husband.”

It takes every ounce of Liam’s control not to vomit. All coherent thoughts leave his head as the world around him blurs and his pulse is throbbing in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut, he frantically tries to find an anchor within himself, something to ground him, so he can figure out what to do. 

And then it happens.

Pictures of Zayn from the last few days appear before his inner eye. Zayn chatting to him at the restaurant, Zayn caring for Rascal and Zayn in his arms on the dancefloor. The images get more and more defined, until the fog in his head recedes completely and Liam sees his path ahead as clear as day.

“No, Cherrie, I don’t want to marry you and don’t want to work for you anymore either.” Now that he started, the words are tumbling freely from his lips. “I’m gonna keep the return ticket as compensation for your bullying. Once I have sorted my stuff over there, I will make sure that you receive the keys to the car and the apartment and everything else that I’ve had the privilege to use, starting with this.” He removes the watch from his wrist and throws it at her feet.

Cherrie gapes at him, her face ashen, her eyes bulging with rage. “You’re going to regret this. I’m going to finish you, if it’s the last thing I do,” she chokes out.

“Whatever.” Liam grits through his teeth, spinning on his heel, not looking at anybody as he turns to leave.

On his way out, he approaches the young woman behind the reception desk. “Excuse me, have you seen the man who came in with me? He wore a grey cardigan and had a rucksack. Not much to go by I know…”

“The really gorgeous one?” she asks, blushing slightly.

Liam nods.

“He asked me to ring for a taxi but he didn’t say where he was going,” she explains, her mouth curling in a sympathetic smile.

Of course Zayn is gone. Why wouldn’t he be? For all he knew, Liam was entering into an arrangement, that he is vehemently opposed to. And now that Liam has decided otherwise, he can’t even talk to him, because he hasn’t got his number. A wave of sadness washes over him but there is nothing that can be done. Zayn has made the decision to walk away.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he steps into the street, stashing his hands in his front pockets, grateful that he threw on his jumper before he left the hotel. It is beginning to get dark, but Liam keeps walking. He has no destination, just a compulsion to plod through the streets of Dublin, working on a plan for his future. Without a watch or a phone, he is not certain what time it is when he comes to the conclusion, that he will have to confront his family, if he wants to ever find peace. He needs to sort his affairs in the US, collect Loki and come home. And then there is one more thing he must do. He must talk to Zayn; bare his soul to him and thank him for showing him that there is always a choice. 

By a fortunate coincidence, he finds himself outside a cafe that his frequented by truck drivers and before he can talk himself out of it, he is asking around for a lift in the general direction of Dingle. One of the drivers takes him as far as Tralee and for the remainder of the journey, he manages to flag down a guy with a furniture van. According to the clock on the guy’s dashboard, it is ten to ten when they arrive outside of The Muddy Traveller. 

The lights in the main building are still on. Liam’s skin tingles with nervous excitement and all of a sudden, this seems like a terrible idea. Except he owes it to Zayn to at least try and explain and so he steps into the pub, much like he did three days ago. 

Zayn and Niall are bent over a catalogue, discussing a delivery of bar stools. Zayn looks up first, his face resembling a mask when he recognises the visitor. Silence hangs uncomfortably between them, and where it had been soothing on the train, it is now suffocating. The lines, that Liam had rehearsed on the way, don’t seem to be adequate anymore. He stands rooted to the spot, his eyes locked onto Zayn’s in some kind of wordless confrontation.

“Hi, good to see you again. I hear that...um...that congratulations may be in order?” Niall surprises them both by saying, tousling his hair in an anxious gesture but ending the standoff, and Liam could kiss him. 

It’s now or never. Liam steps closer to the bar, his shoulders squared. 

“No, I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t. Zayn, you made me see that living a lie is a crap thing to do. I don’t want to pretend any more, and I wanted to come and tell you that.”

He takes it as a good sign, that Zayn doesn't immediately fly off the handle. Then he realises it’s much worse. Zayn walks out of the backdoor, not awarding him a single syllable.

Liam feels faint. What was he seriously expecting? Open arms? Why did he think for even one second that Zayn was going to be interested in his new life plan. Why can’t Liam man up and say what he really means? Maybe he should adopt coward as his middle name because there there is no word that describes him more accurately. 

“Go after him; I bet he’s in the garden,” Niall urges. 

Liam laughs at that. “What’s the use? He made his position perfectly clear.”

Niall comes out from behind the bar, his hands on his hips. “Christ almighty, you two are unbelievable. He didn’t fill me in on all the ins and outs of your little road trip, but you know what he did when he got back? He broke down crying. That lasted for an hour or so, and then he started to throw and slam things. It wasn’t pretty, I can tell ya. I figure you can do something about that. So, don’t stand there like a lovesick puppy and talk to him.”

“I don’t know...he didn’t even acknowledge me,” Liam wavers.

“Zayn likes to sulk; you better get used to it. What do you have to lose?”

Niall is right. One last attempt won’t hurt and he wants nothing more than to talk to Zayn. He lets himself through the backdoor into the garden, which is illuminated by a flickering security light. There are overgrown shrubs and weed covered borders, but with some loving care, it could be a beautiful space. Zayn is leaning against a massive tree, his back to Liam. 

Liam takes a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you,” he says simply.

“Does your joke have a punchline?” Zayn snaps.

“I’m not joking. You have no idea what it was like when we were traveling. To be so close to you and not being able to touch you. I know that you don’t think of me like that, and that’s ok, but let me just thank you for opening my eyes and for being with me during the last few days. I’m gonna get my act together, return to the UK and talk to my family.” Liam pauses, hoping for a response. When none comes, he adds,”Can you say something, please?” 

Zayn turns around slowly, looking incredulous. “Really Liam?” he bursts out. “You don’t think that it felt like a stab to my chest, when you told me that you were on your way to get engaged? And then you twisted the knife, when you revealed that it was all a scam. I tried to change your mind, tried to show you another way. Have you ever considered why I stayed with you? No, you haven’t. Because you can’t see past your own shit. I’m pretty sure that you liked our kiss, but you didn’t mention it the next day and so, in the end, I resigned myself to be your mate. But you couldn’t even let me have that. You denied my existence to her, you called me a nobody, when you could have just called me your friend.” 

Liam closes the space between them. He had been such a complete idiot. Zayn liked him back and he hadn’t noticed. “I’m so sorry, Zayn. I was so scared and confused and ...and...I’m so shit at this. I have no clue what to say.” 

Zayn smirks, but his features soften. “How about you say nothing and kiss me. I tend to remember, that you’re quite good at that.”

“I thought you’re mad at me.”

“I am, but I’m also in love with you and I am proud of you’ve finally decided to take your life into your own hands. Now, about that kiss that -”

Zayn can’t finish his sentence, because Liam braces one hand against the tree while the other finds the nape of Zayn’s neck. He nudges their noses together before invading Zayn’s mouth with his tongue. Zayn offers no resistance, returning the kiss just as passionately. Liam heart threatens to jump out of his body. Zayn is kissing him back and this time, he is in full control of his actions. Everything about this feels so right.

“Harry was correct after all,” Liam gasps when they come up for air. 

“Harry?”

“He told me that we should be together and he wants us to get in touch when we’re ready.”

“Remind me to thank him for that,” Zayn laughs. “And I’d love get together with the two of them.”

Then he is serious again. “So, you’re moving back to Wolverhampton?”

Liam shrugs. “Not sure. I’ll decide when I’m sorted.”

Zayn runs his fingers along Liam’s jaw line. “If you don’t have any better offers, I could use a guy who can fix things.”

Liam thinks he might be dreaming. “You mean to come and live here with you?”

“Yeah...we could have a real go at running this place, and like you said, Loki will love it here. And also, if you’re after a room for tonight, I happen to have one. If you don’t mind sharing it with me, that is.” 

Liam kisses him again, as if his life depends on it. “The answer is yes,” he breathes afterwards. “I love you, Zayn.”

“Same here, and I will be beside you, forever.”

Zayn takes him by the hand and leads him inside.

Liam thanks the universe for stranding him here, at his new home with the man he loves.


End file.
